


Ruined

by ShaneShenanigans



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: I don't know what to tag this as, M/M, i didn't plan this it just happened, some mild form of power play?, underdiscussed strip tease???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 12:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16640450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneShenanigans/pseuds/ShaneShenanigans
Summary: “I’m afraid if you want me undressed you’ll have to do it yourself.”





	Ruined

“Take off your shoes,” Jim said as he passed through the apartment door, clearly assuming Oswald would shut it. Oswald loathed to subject his socks to the apartments worn and unkempt carpet, but Jim had taken his off at the door as well. If it was a house rule, he’d choose not to be rude.

Jim was half-way into the kitchen that could be seen from a few steps inside the apartment. Oswald looked around for a short moment, aware of the sound of Jim opening and closing cupboards.

“Are you going to tell me why you brought me here?” Oswald finally asked, still hovering only a few steps from the doorway.

Jim’s demeanor was calm, almost scarily so. He didn’t answer the question in any manner, let alone a characteristically rough or sarcastic one. Instead he took to pouring whiskey into a cheap glass with a smudge near the top.

“This isn’t exactly standard procedure for an arrest, old friend,” Oswald tried again.

“I never said I was arresting you,” Jim said, as gruffly as ever, stepping out of the kitchen and stopping with his bare feet just a few steps onto the carpet. He held the glass just above his waist, swishing the liquid around a bit and looking at the floor a few feet away.

“True, you just opened the passenger side door of a police cruiser and told me to get in,”

“And you did,” Jim nearly cut him off, and Oswald stared him down. In truth, he’d done what he was told for two reasons: The first, that his cell phone had long since died during his too-long stay on that blimp, and calling for a ride would have been a problem. The second was morbid curiosity.

“I suppose I did,” Oswald shrugged, smiling shortly. “Are you going to tell me why?”

It was obvious Jim was going to ask him for something. Oswald could hardly imagine what it was, but he had a feeling by the way it was rather tactlessly being put off, he wasn’t going to like it. Perhaps Jim was worried he’d say no. 

He probably would.

Or perhaps, it was just Jim who wasn’t going to like asking. Ever since the virus he’d been back to Mr. Self-righteous and painfully irritating goody-two-shoes. His naughty streak was long-gone and Oswald was genuinely sad to have mostly missed it, having been distracted with becoming mayor and—, well, Ed.

“If it has anything to do with the rest of Jerome’s plans, I told you before, I don’t know anything. If I had I would have said. Believe it or not, within my own interest, I was on your side. One-hundred perc—,”

“I know,” Jim interrupted, but still didn’t speak further.

Oswald heaved a sigh, leaning his cane against the back of the couch that was conveniently only a step away.

“Jim, we’re in your apartment. It’s dirty, and disgusting, but also private. So if there’s something you want to ask for where no one else will find out you asked this is the place. It’ll be just like old times.”

“Take off your jacket,” Jim said, simply, and almost too quietly for Oswald to hear. But he did.Oswald was going to say something like “beg your pardon?” but when he opened his mouth he didn’t manage to make the words come out. 

Instead his brow furrowed, and he nearly stuttered when he said “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Jim set the glass of whiskey down on an otherwise empty decorative table against the wall. Oswald noted that he hadn’t taken so much as a sip yet. His feet started moving across the floor, drawing closer far too slowly. Oswald tensed but stood firm, looking Jim in the eye with each step until he stopped right in front of him.

Oswald didn’t immediately realize his jaw had dropped open, nor how vulnerable and frozen he’d let himself become. He did nothing as Jim’s hands raised to the buttons on his suit jacket, and Oswald’s gaze dropped immediately when he undid the first one. His eyes widened as Jim’s fingers casually moved down to the second, and then finally the third and last. Oswald was glad there were only three buttons or his legs might’ve turned to jelly before the end of it.

When he was finished Jim’s hands fell to his sides and his eyes raised to Oswald’s with something newly smug in them. Oswald had to shove his tongue into his cheek to avoid saying anything stupid.

“Fine,” he huffed after Jim had turned around to pick up his glass once more. Oswald all but tore his jacket off, begrudgingly shoving it off his shoulders one at a time. He was too irritated to notice Jim watching as sipped at the whiskey.

He tossed the jacket on the arm of the same couch his cane was against, and shoved his hands in his vest pockets, feeling an odd brand of insecurity.

“If you’re going to ask me to make myself at home, please don’t bother. I wouldn’t touch the furniture here with a nine foot—,”

“Now the gloves,” Jim interrupted, and Oswald’s jaw fell open again, this time just staring at him.

“My gloves?”

“Let’s just say if things go awry I’d like there to be finger prints,” Jim said. Even though Oswald knew that was bullshit he looked down at his leather-clad hand and sighed, tugging at the index finger, and then the others until the glove came loose. Once they were both removed, he set them on top of where his jacket lie.

He looked to Jim expectantly, not sure if he was awaiting some enlightenment to the purpose of their little visit or just more obscure orders. Jim was quiet, eyes on him, for almost a full minute before he spoke in an even lower voice.

“Now your vest,” his words were unclear, almost slurred, lips moving under dark eyes, full of intent, glass of whiskey held loose at his side.

That was when Oswald’s breath caught in his throat, and he wanted to say he knew what was going on but it still felt too far-fetched. Yet, he was nothing without his intuition, and it wasn’t time to stop listening to it just because this seemed absolutely impossible.

For a moment, he considered doing what he was told, seeing where it lead, seeing if he was opposed.

But then, even if he were to find himself amenable to the outcome, he’d never been great at following orders. Still, maybe just a little further. Just to be sure.

He tried to keep the knowing, amused smile off his lips, the one that threatened to betray him, as he unbuttoned the vest. He did it casually, looking at what he was doing but also subtly allowing his eyes to flick up and watch Jim. He was just looking. Just watching, eyes empty or dark or maybe both at the same time and suddenly at the last button Oswald was uncertain as to whether he could do this.

He shivered under the gaze as he took it off just as quickly and haphazardly as the jacket, throwing it aside like it was on fire to just get it over with. When he looked back at Jim, a nervous hand rubbing against the top of his slacks, his expression hadn't changed.

"...Socks," was all Jim said, plainly, and it was enough. Oswald knew they both knew.

“Hm,” his face cracked into a nervous smile as his eyes shifted to his gloves and suit jacket on the couch. For just a moment he considered continuing but it would have been impossible once Jim decided to say "shirt" and so-

“I’m afraid if you want me undressed you’ll have to do it yourself,” Oswald said quickly as he snatched up his jacket and vest again in one go, draping them over his arm to turn swiftly for the door, gloves shoved into his back pocket. For a moment he couldn’t believe he’d actually said that, but it was out. No going back.

“Oswald,” his name came on a soft breath from behind him, not harsh and demanding but hushed and pleading. Footsteps trailed after him, hurried pads of bare feet on carpet until a hand came down flat against the doorframe. Oswald’s hand was on the knob, and if he turned it and pulled— only Jim’s thumb was blocking it from opening— he could easily still leave.But Jim was only inches away behind him, and he was still. Still not doing anything.

“Why?” Oswald whispered, hands trembling on his cane and jacket like he’d become too weak to hold them any longer.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Jim said, the words barely making it past his lips. “Is that enough?”

Oswald opened his mouth as a hundred thoughts ran through his head. Have a conversation, make him dinner, even an argument about something stupid, or something important. Any one of those things could fix Jim’s problem. Keep him occupied, in company. But that wasn’t the sort of company Jim was asking for. Likely, it wasn’t the sort he wanted, either. Not from Oswald.

He could have spent hours, days even, trying to coax Jim into drinking with him, talking softly with him about nothing, smiling at him from across a quiet candlelit table. Jim would never do anything except frown. Hard.

But there was this.

Oswald turned, fast on the balls of his shoeless feet, dropping all of his belongings and removed clothing as he raised his hands to the sides of Jim’s face. He meant to kiss him, close the distance and lock it in so there could be no turning back. But before he made contact he caught sight of Jim’s eyes, all blue, dark in the low light, and watching him just like they were before.

Jim’s jaw tensed as he roughly pressed Oswald back against the door. Oswald released a surprised sound he hadn’t meant to make— damn him for losing control of his voice so quickly. He stared back at Jim’s dark eyes with his mouth open just slightly.

“We’re doing this, then?” Jim whispered a gentle question, and Oswald raised an equally gentle hand to his face.

“I…” was all he could get out, and there was a little too much plea, too much need behind it, but it made Jim push their lips together so he wouldn’t dare take it back.

Jim kissed him like he did everything, like he had everything and nothing to prove all at once. Skill when a soft brush of tongue made Oswald’s knees weak and then a rough clash of teeth like he was just here to take everything he wanted and go. Oswald held on, turned his head, followed the ups and downs like he was being lead in a dance. He’d never been kissed before. Not really. Not like this.

“Jim…” he breathed, bottom lip quivering as he dipped his head down to break the kiss. “…what are we doing?” He whispered.

Hands. Oswald held his breath as hands dragged themselves from his hips to his lower belly, teasing the idea of pulling his tucked undershirt free of his pants. He supposed that was meant to be Jim’s answer to the question, complete with the huffs of breath against his ear. Oswald understood what he was trying to say.

Jim started to kiss his neck, just below his ear, then lower. Oswald’s eyes were open, facing over his shoulder, scanning the room until they landed upon the open bottle of whiskey and empty glass.

“I should go,” Oswald said, tone suddenly plain, and Jim’s hands stopped. Moments of silenced passed, until Jim pulled his head back and looked at Oswald’s eyes with a furrowed brow and plenty of confusion.

“Sorry,” Oswald said, placing a hand on Jim’s shoulder and squeezing as he found space to step despite his back having been against the door a moment ago. “I know you didn’t want to be alone.”

He didn’t speak further, simply crouched down to pick up his cane and clothes. Carrying even his shoes rather than wearing them, he opened Jim’s apartment door, and left. He didn’t even shut it behind him, and Jim was too shocked to wonder why that may have been, if there even was a reason.

Had he really just done that?

Had he really just been rejected?

Two fingers found their way up to his bottom lip and he pressed on it softly as the aftermath of kissing Oswald set in. Not a particularly great or even active kisser, but the feeling of his mouth underneath his own lingered like the taste of the whiskey and it felt as if his heart had climbed up into his throat.

He sighed harshly, and slammed the door.

o-o-o

Jim didn’t see him again.

The bridges were destroyed, Jeremiah had completed his plan to isolate the city, and while Jim knew Oswald had certainly had some part in it one way or another, they simply hadn’t crossed paths since that night.

Jim didn’t think about him. Didn’t think about it. Didn’t think about how his judgement wasn’t actually all that clouded and that it genuinely seemed like a good idea at the time. He didn’t think about standing in the cool night air and soft breeze watching Oswald get a pat on the back from a rookie cop as she thanked him for saving the city. 

He didn’t think about the amused smile that crossed his lips when he saw the look of confusion that wiped the “I’m definitely about to start screaming” look off Oswald’s face the moment he stepped off the blimp and found Harper waiting to shake his hand.

He didn’t think about standing still as the other officers got into their cruisers, one with the formerly hypnotized pilot, another with the standby pilot to escort them both to a hospital and back home respectively. He didn’t think about being the only one left as the others cleared out.

Standing there in only the light of the cruiser’s headlights, watching Oswald pull a phone from his pocket and stare down at it, knowing exactly what he was about to do.

"Oswald," Jim called, voice rough and loud but just so Oswald could hear him across the distance.

Oswald looked up from the blank screen of his phone, then at Jim who was holding open the passenger side door of the last remaining police cruiser.

"Get in?" It was more of a question than a demand.

Oswald hesitated, but in under a minute decided to cross the distance between them, and didn’t say anything has he got in. He didn’t say anything when Jim drove them to his own apartment, nor as they both exited the car and walked up the stairs. Until they both were safe inside and he started asking questions, Jim had been sure Oswald understood his intentions.

Jim avoided thinking about any of it, because it didn’t matter.

“Penguin,” Harvey’s voice shook him from his thoughts and he looked up. The GCPD was quiet these days, so much more empty than he’d ever seen it on a day it hadn’t been a war zone. It made him uneasy, but there wasn’t much going on in the city currently that didn’t.

“What about him?” Jim asked, voice calm even as Oswald’s face when he was pressed against the door appeared in his head again.

“He made contact,” Harvey said.

Jim stood with concern in his eyes, harshness in his voice. “How?”

“Relax, nothing violent. Yet. He sent a message through one of our guys. He wants to meet.”

“Meet for what?” Jim’s brow furrowed. Oswald had a lot on his plate if he was trying to climb back into a dictator-like position of power, and Jim was certain there was no way that wasn’t his goal. What could he possibly want from a broken GCPD?

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Harvey shrugged. “We know he’s not a fan of chaos like some of our other friends out there. Maybe he wants to strike a deal, some kind of alliance?”

“Would we consider accepting?” Jim asked, critically.

Harvey shrugged, “that’s up to you, Cap.”

“How do we make a reply?”

“We nothing,” Harvey’s lips twitched at the edges in a sympathetic smile, “he wants _you_ to meet up with him. Talk.”

Jim heaved a sigh. “Like old times, then,” he stood immediately, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. “Where?”

“Think you can trust him?” Harvey asked.

Jim snorted, “About as far as I can throw him.”

“How far’s that?” Harvey’s voice tone remained serious and Jim merely scoffed at him, and rolled his eyes. Whatever it was, Harvey ceded and set it aside for the time being.

“The meeting spot’s not far. Public, but it’s his on his turf so you’d be smack dab in the reach of his dirty little hands. He wants to do it tonight,” Harvey held out an envelope, on the back of which he’d written the address he’d been given. Jim examined it for a moment, then snatched it from his hand.

“Don’t wait up,” Jim said. Harvey just frowned at him.

“I mean it, Harvey. I’ll be back when it’s done but I need you focused on other things. Taking just me out isn’t a strategic move anyway, and he doesn’t have any reason to.”

“Really? ‘Cause I can think of about a dozen things I’d kill you for…”

“I’ll be fine.”

Those were Jim’s parting words as he adjusted the back of his collar and walked out of his office, then out of the precinct.

o-o-o

When Harvey said public, Jim pictured a nice place with a fair number of patrons. The remaining few in Gotham weren’t above the need for a night out, and Oswald knew since his first club how to hold a business together.

But it was suspiciously quiet from the outside, and sure enough, when Jim stepped through the door, the place was empty aside from an unfamiliar bouncer, and one man sitting at a dining table near the center of the room. Said man spotted him immediately.

“There you are!” he said, standing from his chair as he set down a glass of— probably champagne by the signature glass. “Pardon me for not acting more surprised. I was sure you’d come.”

Jim continued into the room, sauntering as casually as ever. “Thanks for the faith,” he said with sarcasm.

Oswald hummed in amusement, and sat back down just as Jim lowered himself into the seat across from him.

“Been a while,” he said, somewhat warily.

“It has,” Oswald agreed, eyes flicking away from Jim’s, almost betraying something less than entirely composed. “I trust you’ve been keeping tabs on me over at that stronghold of yours.”

“You and every other big name criminal and psychopath in this city. It’s a lot to sift through.”

Oswald nodded, expression not lacking in bitterness at being lumped with the rest of them.

“I think we can assume a lot of them have been keeping tabs on you too. How long do you think before one of them decides to—,”

“Enough,” Jim interrupted bluntly, and Oswald stopped immediately, mouth left open. “Just tell me what you’re asking for.”

Oswald sighed, deflating all of his formalities and slumping a little in his seat. He ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth as he considered.

“Honestly, Jim? I don’t know yet.”

“What?”

“I thought we could keep it simple,” Oswald shrugged. “Normally I’d prefer everything planned and sorted to a T but this isn’t that Gotham anymore, is it? We’re just factions on a gameboard, not really the main powerhouses like we used to be.”

Jim listened carefully, though it was far from what he was expecting.

“In the end, I sent you a message because I have to assume that for now, we want the same thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“The return of law and order,” Oswald said, like it was obvious.

Jim leaned forward, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “So you can corrupt it to your liking?”

“Of course, eventually,” Oswald shrugged, and Jim’s lips twitched into a smirk.

Oswald grinned back at him, sort of mischievously, and Jim felt like he would lose some kind of battle if he looked away. So he kept their eyes locked, until he couldn’t remember why they were having a stare-down. 

It was Oswald who finally allowed his gaze to drift away.

“Have a drink,” He said, picking up the second glass of champagne and placing it close to Jim’s hand. Jim obliged with no fuss, taking a formal sip and no more before setting the glass back down.

“No question we’ll have different methods,” Oswald went on, this time looking down at his napkin, which was folded artistically on the table in front of him. A few moments ago he’d raised a leather-clad hand and started fiddling with the corner of it.

“But I think you have a lot worse than me to worry about. And I’d feel a lot better knowing I didn’t have to worry about you as well as all of the others that’ll be standing in our way.”

“Our way?” Jim asked, and Oswald didn’t answer for a moment as he raised his glass to his lips. Subtly, he tilted it back, drinking down more than was practical for a business conversation, but smoothly enough that Jim almost didn’t notice.

“I’m not saying we move in together,” Oswald joked as he licked the lingering champagne from his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “Just a regular exchange of information, and maybe some hands-on assistance further down the line.”

“Hm,” Jim tried to pretend to both himself and Oswald that Oswald hadn’t lost him at licking his lips. It only worked on one of them.

“Maybe we’ll never really be friends, Jim.” Oswald said, looking him in the eye again, this time with more meaning, and a slight breathiness making its way into his voice. His eyes downcast quickly before they rose up again. “But I can’t think of a better time for us to use each other.”

Jim stared at him.

“To our respective strengths, I mean. Of course.” Oswald finished. Jim regarded his face, the ways his eyes seemed eager for an answer. He traced his finger along the rim of his champagne glass thoughtfully, his own eyes following it until they met with Oswald’s again.

“All right,” he said, firmly enough that it couldn’t be mistaken as anything but agreement. From across the table Oswald released a nearly inaudible gasp, like he was relieved. 

“We’ll use each other.”

Oswald released a short, stuttered and awkward laugh at that as he looked down at his hands folded on the table.

“Sounds like a shaky foundation when you put it that way.” He said, not lacking humor.

“You put it that way,” Jim reminded, “And I’d say our foundation is pretty unavoidably unstable at this point, wouldn’t you?”

“Bygones,” Oswald said, waving him off.

Jim was quiet again, studying him with difficult to read eyes, maybe something a little sad in them.

“I’m sorry all this happened,” he said, finally, voice sounding tired. Oswald’s eyes widened and his demeanor perked, ankles crossing under the table.

“To Gotham,” Jim clarified. “I… tried to stop it.” At some point he was sure he was going to say more, but it was useless. Of course he tried to stop it, even Oswald had to have known that by default.

Oswald sighed as he stood. “We all did, Jim.” He was very casual about moving to the next chair over. The table was small, square, and there were only four seats to it. This put him perpendicular to Jim’s position and well within reach.

Jim had to look away from him as it was unsavory just to acknowledge Oswald as being within reach right now.

“It’s a mess out there,” Oswald said. “Like a lot of messes in this town…” Oswald looked down as he spoke, memories seeping in, “…you and I might be the ones with the best chance of cleaning it up.”

Jim looked him in the eye, eyes that were so much closer now, and couldn’t help finding that dreaded honesty in them. The kind he’d taken advantage of so many times, used and thrown aside. It felt sad, it felt awful to care, and awful that he’d started allowing himself to.

“It’s anarchy,” Oswald continued. “Maybe things weren’t exactly the way you wanted them before, but we both know it was better than this—,”

“Okay,” Jim said, interrupting but still the words barely got past his lips.

Oswald smiled, sincerely, and Jim knew well the difference between sincere and sinister when it came to Oswald’s smile. For a brilliant liar and manipulator, the man wore his heart on his sleeve by the shine in his eyes and the curve of his lips.

“David!” Oswald said suddenly, calling across the room to the man standing in front of it. “Arrange Captain Gordon a ride back to the GCPD, and wait for him in the car.”

Jim looked over his shoulder to see the man who’d been standing guard by the door nod, and exit the building. They were alone now.

“I appreciate the ride.” Jim said, though he wasn’t sure how Oswald knew he’d walked, a vehicle was always safer. He pushed his chair out just a few inches, feeling as if he needed to retreat immediately.

“Jim!” Oswald seemed to panic, a hand reaching out and grasping whatever it found to catch him. In this instance it happened to be the middle of Jim’s thigh as he scooted his chair back. 

“Wait one more minute—,” Oswald cut himself off when he looked down at his hand, and where it was, unable to stop from acknowledging where it could be.Jim had frozen, successfully halted by the grab and now sitting still, almost stiff, looking down at the hand as well like he couldn’t take his eyes off it.

Oswald snatched his hand away and stood abruptly, mouth dropping open to stutter something thoroughly subject changing. Some cleverly snarky farewell, any minute now it would come to him and he’d stop standing there with his mouth open—

Jim stood too, the chair legs dragging loudly across the floor and then Oswald didn’t have to think anymore. Hands on his lower shoulders pressed him back against the table as lips slanted against his open mouth, sweeping over his bottom lip. A few ticks, a second that felt like hours before he turned off the lights in his mind, and closed his mouth to kiss back fiercely. For Oswald, fiercely was just a closed mouth pressed back as hard and with as much passion as he could muster

Jim’s hands latched onto his hips, lifting him up to set him on the table. Oswald squeaked as he was pulled off the ground, but relaxed when he was set down with Jim Gordon snug between his legs, breathing hard with their noses almost touching and their eyes on each other’s lips.

“Your driver’s waiting for me,” Jim reminded, and Oswald shook his head immediately.

“He’ll wait as long as we need him to,” he tugged greedily on Jim’s upper sleeve and tilted his head, leaning in—

“Why did you leave my apartment?” Jim asked, thoroughly out of nowhere and Oswald wanted to shove him off and do it again. He didn’t want to think, that’s what got him into trouble last time. The kind of trouble that involved getting home, sitting behind your desk and wishing you’d abandoned your pride and let the hot police captain bend you over his couch.

“Why did you do what you did?” Oswald countered instead, locking a leg tightly around Jim’s waist to keep him there in case in a moment his arms decided to try and shove him off.

Jim opened his mouth to reply, but no words came, and Oswald wasn’t surprised. Of course he couldn’t answer that question.

“That’s why I left,” Oswald said, nodding toward Jim’s lack of reply, then pursing his lips.

“Oswald, I…” Jim started.

“I’ve wanted you a long time,” Oswald interrupted, quite easily despite the confession. “Maybe you knew,” he shrugged, clicking his tongue. Jim’s tentative eyes didn’t reveal anything, but Oswald was certain he’d had an idea regardless.

“In the worst, most embarrassing ways, the way we are right now among the less mortifying, but…”

“…I never would have said, or done anything, but you…” Oswald trailed off, eyes following his hands as he dragged them down Jim’s chest.

“—you had to go and kiss me,” he finished. Jim looked down at his hands, watching as Oswald straightened his collar, then his tie, maybe just trying to busy himself from letting them wander anywhere else.

“Now that’s all I can think about, I—,” Oswald stopped himself, took a deep breath. “Tonight really was supposed to be about business,” his thumb rubbed over the seem of the fabric between his fingers. “…then you walked through the door and I…” he licked his lips.

“…I just wanted you to do it again,” Oswald’s eyes moved back down to Jim’s lips again. “You ruined me.” 

The leg wrapped around his waste squeezed, and Jim obliged to wedge himself harder against Oswald’s body. He dipped his head so their noses touched and Oswald closed his eyes and gasped.

“I think you drew a line in the sand and then turned around and jumped over it,” Oswald whispered, and something about his voice made Jim roll his hips forward and groan lowly. Oswald whined, but didn’t protest, instead leaning forward and speaking into Jim’s ear. “I think you’ve wanted this as long as I have.”

“Oswald…” Jim begged.“I drew a line too. I never would have crossed it. Never.” Oswald went on. “But you did.” Oswald looked straight at his eyes, and despite their position, those eyes demanded an answer.

“I’ve been drawing a lot of lines lately, with everything that’s happened,” Jim said. “…this ended up feeling like one of the safer ones to cross.”

Oswald opened his mouth, maybe with some kind of protest on his tongue, some kind of rebuttal or ‘tsk, tsk.’ Something that would assure Jim that answer wasn’t good enough.

But the replaying of one word in his head stopped him.

_Safer._

Safe.

“It’s a start,” is what Oswald said instead, and then he remained still as Jim leaned in once more. Slowly, tentatively, as if he wasn’t sure the light was green until he finally closed the distance and kissed Oswald like he had that night in his apartment.

Oswald let Jim give, followed his lead, and let himself stay on the receiving end of a skilled tongue that wanted him to melt beneath it. It was succeeding more quickly than he’d wanted to allow, and he gasped for breath as he turned his head down and away.Jim stayed silent and still, looking at him with worry as if certain Oswald was going to leave again.

“I have a lot of work to do. It’s important,” Oswald said, and he felt Jim’s hold loosen. Not like he was letting go, but as if the tense determination in his limbs had deflated with acceptance.

“We both do,” he added, and Jim’s eyes then shifted away, a little guilt there as he finally let his hands drop from Oswald’s back and waist onto the table. 

“But stay,” Oswald said quickly, grabbing his arms as he found he hated the feeling of them no longer around him. He found surprise in Jim’s eyes, maybe some relief as he arched his back to lean into an imminent kiss again, and whispered. “The driver can wait.”


End file.
